Impasse
by Barbinator
Summary: This isn't going to be much of a summary. A chance meeting between Joker and the new girl in town. Who is she? Villain or vigilante? One thing is clear: She likes to kill. I own nothing of this movie or characters. I own Verity.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I've had this scene in my head now for four days. I couldn't focus on my other story until I forced this out. I really enjoy the dynamic between Joker/Batman, and thought I'd add another character who is like the Joker, but not. Like Batman, but not. I have no idea what I'm going to do with this. Whether this is going to be a Joker/OC or Batman/OC or neither. I would like to continue this as a story rather than a one-shot. At this point, I really don't know. It's up in the air. Let me know what you think.**

She was going to take Gotham by storm. They wouldn't know what hit them. Twirling briefly in excitement, Verity lightly skimmed her slender hands along her arsenal laid out on the king-sized bed.

Lovingly, almost reverently, she picked up the Dior boutique outfit. A white t-shirt that read "We should all be feminists" and high-waisted black spandex shorts with a tulle skirt that flowed to her ankles over top. Quickly, she slipped them on, and danced to her full length oval mirror. She giggled at the feel of the skirt on her bare skin. It felt naughty wearing the sheer fabric.

As was her routine, she inspected her "look" with a critical eye. She did have a job to do after all. She had to be perfect. She grabbed the white Dior blazer and placed her arms inside. Twisting her body slightly, Verity inspected the Dior stamp on the back. Not too bold. But noticeable.

She wanted the brand seen.

Strolling back to the bed, she studied her options. She chose J'adior sunglasses that were white and black and placed them on her head like a bandanna. A Louise Vuitton handbag and a Chanel bracelet that matched the necklace that hung around her neck like a beacon.

To complete the ensemble, she stepped into plain, black ballet slippers.

Once again, she carefully inspected her reflection. Complexion. Flawless and rosy. Hair. Black curls glossy and bouncy. Satisfied, she kissed herself, leaving a red lip print on the glass.

Gazing into her violet eyes, her naturally husky voice whispered strongly, "Verity Thea, you know chaos made tea and cereal the same way. Milk first." Winking dramatically, she bowed. "It's show-time." And she laughed and laughed at her secret.

Two hours later, Verity was still laughing as she waltzed the streets of Gotham's sleazy parts of town. She wasn't in too deeply as Gotham's better establishments were mere blocks away. Not the best, but better. She was in far enough to be noticed.

Unbeknownst to her, there were two eyes watching her menacingly. She stuck out like a sore thumb. The elite knew better than to walk these streets, but every so often, the young ones were dumb enough to think their wealth gifted them immunity. Or drunk enough to lose their way.

Verity swayed, unable to walk in a straight line. She was an easy target as her off pitch voice washed away the sounds of the footsteps behind her. Her singing was atrocious, and everyone within a one block radius were doing their best to drown out the noise.

It helped that they were used to it.

Ducking in an alleyway, Verity ambled along slowly as her nails skimmed along the old brick building. She stopped and leaned against the dumpster to grab a smoke, clumsily fiddling in her purse, knocking the sunglasses out of the way to look for the lighter.

The cigarette was placed between her plump red lips when the voice angrily whipped her, "Hand over the bag."

Without looking up, she smiled around the cigarette.

"Oh my." Her voice was breathless in wonder. "Are you robbing me, sir?" Finally, she made eye contact with the blunt end of a gun. She frowned and inquired, "Can you at least let me light up?"

Perturbed that she wasn't showing the proper respect of fear, the thug ripped the designer bag out of her hands, resulting in her smoke bouncing on the dirty pavement. She sighed.

Annoyed that she wasn't screaming or blubbering over with cowardice, the thug shouted at her. "Now the jewelry! Hurry up!" He shoved the gun closer to her face, and she slowly raised her hands in the air.

Removing the bracelet from her wrist, she then held it up for his inspection. Innocently, she asked, "This Chanel piece here?"

His eyes lit up greedily as he snatched it from her hands. He eyed her up and down. "The rest of it." She hated the lust in his eyes. It would be removed.

She glanced down at the contaminated cigarette and calmly stated, "You really should have let me light that smoke. It changed your fate from bad to worse." His expression was dumbfounded. The brutes were always dim-witted. Rolling her eyes, she chided, "You should've learned the difference between designer brands and knock-offs. That's a $2 bracelet. That purse was $20 purchased from a black flea market. Tsk tsk. I've just wasted your time, haven't I?" Grasping the edges of her expensive looking necklace, she applied minimal pressure before the clasp snapped. Holding it on the tips of her fingers, she let it drop to the ground with a clatter.

While he slowly processed her words, she grabbed the pressure points of his wrist and twisted the gun down as she used the momentum to hop and kick off from the dumpster behind her. She flipped over his shoulder to execute the final move with just the slightest swipe of her free hand, metal glinting briefly against the lone light above their heads.

She landed with her back inches from his, knife in hand. The thug was silent. They always were in the end. Just as his knees hit the pavement, she twirled around to grab the fake purse before the thick puddle of blood pouring from his gaping throat could reach it.

"Yuck, that was close," she grimaced. She glanced at him dispassionately as he made soft gurgling sounds. "Oh good grief, just fall over and die already." Using her slippered foot, she pushed on his back until he fell in a sprawl on his face with a sickening splat.

And this was why she insisted on black shoes, she mused in distaste as she felt the warm droplets hit her ankles.

The blood seeped quickly under the dumpster. One less creep on the streets.

Suddenly, a voice growled from the other end of the alley in a forced, chipper gaiety. "Do I have to do everything around here? I hired you to do **one** thing. One thing. Wai **t** by the car. How hard is **that**?" The voice was getting closer and closer in the darkened alley.

Verity turned just as the dark figure walked under the light, somehow managing to douse the light with his presence. She was used to thugs and criminals and simply did not react to him.

He, on the other hand, stopped in surprise as he took in the scene. Licking his lips, he glanced from the dead body on the ground to her silent figure. His appearance didn't surprise her, but his reaction did.

He laughed. He was laughing so hard he was bent over, slapping his knees. "Oh, uh, this is, this is just so…unex **pec** te **d**." Just as suddenly as he started, he stopped laughing and stared at her with raw menace. She arched her brow in response. "Now why did you have to go and kill my driver? I was using him." He held his hands out, palm up, as he licked his lips again before slapping his hands against his thighs. He studied her just as closely as she was studying him. Their reasons were polar opposites.

Shrugging her shoulders, she silently cleaned and holstered the knife back on her hip, where it was effectively hidden from view. The man noted the knife with interest. "He tried to rob me. Nothing personal."

His stare unnerved her, as if he were lifting all the veils of her life, piece by piece, uncovering all of what made Verity herself. "So, what's a beautiful gal like you doing in this part of Gotham? Getting robbed is the norm." His m sound ended with a smack of his lips.

She smiled down at the dead thug. "I already found what I was looking for." She giggled to herself and decided to bite with her own question. Looking him up and down, pointedly studying the face paint, she inquired, "Why are you dressed like a clown? You look like It's spawn."

His eyes were seemingly cold and lifeless as he stared at her. "You have no idea who I am, do you?" Everyone knew who he was. He was the Joker, feared by all. Good and bad. Yet this little slip of a girl looked him dead in the eye with no fear.

Just as he stared at everyone around him. No fear. He had just left the mob meeting. Slammed a man's head into a pencil to entertain them. Although he had been the only one amused. No one had a sense of humor anymore.

He was also armed to the teeth with bombs and various grenades.

And she didn't know who he was.

As if to rub that fact in, she shrugged dismissively. "I'm not from around here." Her fist tightened on the strap of her purse. "Now I'm going to go home and enjoy a quiet evening." Her eyes dared him to argue with her.

Circling her like a vulture intent on its prey, he clucked his tongue. "See, we have a little issue. You, uh, killed my driver. You owe me." He licked his lips again. Her eyes curiously watched the movement.

Her husky laugh hit him like tiny little toothpicks. He stopped in front of her, much closer than before, as he imagined shoving a grenade down her throat. He had the perfect size too.

But…he had to admit, she was interesting. He needed to see fear in her eyes first. Otherwise, what was the fun?

Her eyes were narrowed on him. "I'm not going to be your bus boy." She stepped forward until she was nearly nose to nose with him. Or she would have been if she had reached further than the top of his shoulder. The Jokers eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline as he realized that she was trying to intimidate him. "No one tells me what to do," she growled at him. That sound was deliciously aggravating.

She tapped his chest lightly. He didn't look down until she tapped again. Harder. Impatiently.

In her small hand rested a grenade, her thumbnail pulling against the clip. He grinned at it.

So unexpected. So delightfully refreshing.

He laughed as he opened the lapels of his jacket and scrutinized her as she serenely glanced over the multiple explosives inches from his chest.

Nearly holding his breath, he waited for her reaction. She didn't disappoint.

She laughed, a rich husky sound. Eyes twinkling, she offered, "Looks like we're at an impasse." She saluted him.

"So it seems." He closed his purple jacket.

Fearlessly, she spun around and strode confidently out of the alley. As if she thought they were done.

They were far from done.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: Thank you to the one reviewer who gave me an opinion. Verity is going to have many run-ins with Batman and Joker. ;) Hope you continue to enjoy!**

The noises in the pub drowned out Verity's musings as she sipped on her whiskey on the rocks. Just enough to soothe without inebriating her mental facilities. She had behaved herself for a week and already the itch was back.

Cracking her neck smoothly, she kept her head tilted as she viewed the patrons of the bar. She wondered how many had killed another. Mugged. Even raped. People did not wear their inner monstrosities out in the open. Herself included.

Taking another quick sip, she inwardly corrected that thought. There was someone who did. The man in the alley with that horrific face paint.

 _The Joker._

Oh yes, Verity had figured that out quickly enough. Staying indoors for a week allowed her plenty of downtime to research archived newspapers of Gotham City. He was plastered all over the news. In fact, she was amazed that the news had not reached Los Angeles before she left. A bank robbery that ends with wrecking a school bus into the building was worldwide news worthy.

It was that insane.

Then there was the nighttime vigilante, _Batman._

Either way, she didn't care to run into either one of them. She liked to complete her business in peace. As much peace as was afforded considering the nature of her activities.

One fact was verified. Gotham City was crawling with the mob. Mob lackeys were an infestation she was looking forward to playing with. And she was currently hunting. As much as she liked to get out and unwind, drinking in a bar was not usually one of them. She had strategically placed herself on the end of the bar by the corner booth that housed a group of several mobsters. Or their lackeys.

She got the impression most customers avoided them. She twirled her fingertips along the rim of the glass as she told herself, she was the new girl. It's not like she knew any better. When she laughed lightly, it encouraged the image of her being a mindless drunk.

When she heard the men speak a distinctive name, she focused all her attention to that corner. _Shit,_ he was literally everywhere. The Joker.

It was annoying.

It appeared that he didn't annoy just her, though. These goons were talking about a hit on the Joker. Dead or alive. Interesting. She filed that information to process later.

It was time to test them. She had bided her time long enough.

Standing up, she weaved her way in their general direction as if she were going to walk past them when she fell into one of the men on the edge of the booth, pressing her breast into the side of his face.

Giggling like a schoolgirl, she patted his chest absentmindedly as she apologized, "I'm so sorry. I lost my footing." She noted the men who stared at her in annoyance and the men who studied her with interest. "While I'm here, could you help a girl out? Where's the back door to this place?"

The man next to the one Verity had her hands on motioned down the corridor.

"Thank you, gentlemen." They were anything but, she knew.

She wondered how many would bite. When she exited the establishment, she inhaled the cold air sharply and smoothed her hands over the straight blonde hair of her wig. She pulled it into a ponytail and started walking.

She wore a dark green, leather mini-dress with a corseted waist with black knee-high boots. If looks could kill, she was a killer tonight.

The end of the alley was a dead end. When she turned around, four of the seven men were behind her. Her eyebrows rose in surprise. More than she was expecting.

The one in front, the leader she would assume, called out, "Are you lost, toots?"

"No, just a wrong turn." Looking over her shoulder, she narrowed her eyes on the leader. They began strolling confidently her way. Just when they were about to pass each other, she side stepped as if to avoid them, and that's when he attacked.

 _Bring it_ , she inwardly rejoiced.

He grabbed her upper arm and slammed her up against the wall, momentarily dazing her. She grinned at him and thought, he should have knocked her harder. His bourbon breath spat in her face as he demanded her cooperation. "Why don't you be sweet and just bend over for us? We could all use a good time." The other men laughed.

Smiling sweetly up at him, she placed her hands on his shoulders and ran her hands down his chest. "Let me loosen up a bit," Verity breathlessly whispered up at him. She reached behind her dress one handed to grab the hilt of her ten-inch midget sword.

Taking her left hand to run her fingers up to the hair at his nape, she pulled him closer to her body as if she were going to kiss him. Simultaneously, she brought her right hand forward and brought it home.

These were the moments she lived for. Watching their eyes.

Almost cradling him, she held him close to her body as his eyes widened in shock, then recognition. They always recognized Death before the end. It was such an intimate moment.

The other men watched them curiously, but from their angle, her sword was hidden. They couldn't see the blade that was imbedded under his rib cage into his heart. They had no way of knowing their leader was as good as dead.

It wasn't until he dropped in a boneless heap at her feet that they cried out in alarm and reacted.

Three against one was a challenge, but she was ready. Always ready and waiting. They rushed her just as she stepped over the body. When one goon pulled out a gun, she sprinted forward and ducked as the gun went off only to come back up with a back-hand stroke of her sword, knocking the gun into some dark corner.

Still moving forward, she used the momentum to elbow a man on her left and sent him sprawling. The third man was not so lucky as she whacked hard enough to nearly decapitate his head. She laughed out loud when the warm blood sprayed her neck and chest.

For a moment, time stilled, suspended as they all watched the body fall and twitch. Verity watched, utterly fascinated.

One man shouted, "Who the fuck are you!?" By now, they had to realize she was not some helpless, drunkard girl.

Turning around, she eyed them critically with the now bloody sword dripping at her side. "I'm your Truth."

The gunless goon whispered to the one who had shouted at her, "Dude, just kill her already."

Running forward, she flipped into an armless cartwheel as he brought the gun up. Goons and their guns. They never learned. It went off, missing her, as she landed and kicked him to the ground. He didn't even have the good sense to hold onto his gun. Before he could react, she was straddling him, about to bring her sword down, when a sharp pain erupted from her side.

She glanced back as the goon pulled a pocket knife from her side. Then she scowled up at him. "Seriously, a pocketknife? Are you trying to tickle me?"

Suddenly, the guy beneath her slammed his fist into the side of her head. She fell to the side and rolled off, but her sword was wrenched so violently from her hand that her wrist popped. Damn.

Both of them were now standing, leering down at her as she knelt before them. They felt powerful imagining they had the upper hand. Before they could attack, she rolled to the side. When the roll was completed, she brought up the goon's gun and shot.

A hole blossomed on his forehead. One monkey down. One to go.

She moved the gun to the left and shot.

The bullet never hit its target. She dropped the gun in bewilderment as darkness dropped between her and the goon.

 _Batman._

He took the bullet for the goon, who was currently stuttering like a fool as he took in the imposing figure before him. Batman's intense gaze probed her bloody form before sweeping his arm around to knock the goon to his butt. Within moments, the goon was cuffed to a metal pipe.

He wasn't going anywhere. Not before the cops took him in. Where he would be released to prowl the streets again. Lawless goons.

Sirens could be heard in the background as they faced off. Slowly, she stood. The vigilante's deep, gravelly voice echoed her way, "Who are you?"

"Who are _you_?" Verity retorted sarcastically as she picked up her sword and sheathed it behind her back. She knew he wouldn't answer her. Just as she wouldn't answer him.

Apparently deciding not to play games, he strode toward her with purpose. "If you think you're going to cuff me alongside that rapist, you are going to be sorry." She narrowed her eyes and clenched her fist. "Do not challenge me."

Abruptly, he stopped. He was studying her, taking in the blood, some that was hers, but mostly not. "You shouldn't mess with the mob."

"They messed with me first."

He growled, "Go home and stay out of trouble. If you see me again, you won't like it." With a swish of his cape, he turned and disappeared up a stairwell.

"Uptight ass," she muttered to herself.

Not bothering to wipe away any blood, she stomped down the streets of Gotham. She dared anyone to cross her path. She was in a foul mood; Batman had ruined her fun.

Almost disappointingly, she stumbled against her door with no issues. She had been distracted the whole way too. The perfect victim. When she finally unlocked the door, she stepped inside the large duplex she temporarily called home. Before she could shut the door, she felt heavy hands on her back as she was roughly pushed to the floor.

Sprawling in an unladylike manner, she simply lay on her back and started hysterically laughing. "Did you follow me home, Batman? That's pathetic."

The foyer lights turned on as the door shut quietly. A rough singsong voice claimed, "I've never been mistaken for the _Bat_ before. That's new." Her wide violet eyes landed on the black ones of none other than the Joker. He licked his lips and casually said, "You look a little, uh, worse for wear." He cackled. He actually _cackled._

"Joker."

"Ah, **now** you know who I am."


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note: highlander348, I have plans for an interesting run in with Batman, although the utility belt is an idea. ;)**

 **kecole12813, I definitely love her spunk too. I'm tired of these characters that shiver in fear when meeting the Joker.**

She'd killed tonight. Viciously. And she'd done it with joy. Therefore, she refused to be intimidated by the Joker.

Even if she did happen to be lying flat on her back before his towering frame. On the floor of her foyer of all places.

Sighing loudly, she ran her hands down her face. "Yes, I now know that you are a wanted criminal of Gotham. What does it matter?"

Glancing up at him, she noticed he was twiddling with a knife, staring at her impassively. "It could be the difference between life or death." He rolled his shoulders thoughtfully as his tongue ran along the grooves of his inner cheeks. "See, uh, if you _really_ knew who I was, you wouldn't be just…laying there." He motioned toward her.

Then he pounced. He was quicker than he looked. Knife to her cheek, he leaned forward as he straddled her stomach. He breathed in her face, "Does it matter _now_?"

Verity grinned. She may have fallen to the floor, but she had fallen prepared. Tapping the small knife against his groin, she mocked, "Does it matter?"

He leaned back, removing the knife and spread his arms wide. "Well, well, well. Always full of surprises. Impasse. I do so like the fire in your, uh, eyes." Licked his lips. "Actually, I like your eyes. I could always…hold onto them for ya." He laughed at his joke.

Glowering, she demanded, "Are you going to kill me or not?" Was it too much to ask for some peace and a nice hot bath? The wound in her side was beginning to ache.

The Joker was surprised and curious when she grabbed his wrist and placed the tip of his knife under her ribcage. She even pushed it in deep enough to pierce the fabric of the dress. She ground out, "If you're going to do it, then just do it already. Straight shot and I'm as good as dead." He stared into her eyes with no reaction. None that she could see, although she got the impression that he was always thinking.

In a playful, whining voice, he complained, "Well, uh, now you just took the fun out of it." Glancing down, he ran the tip of his knife lightly over to the blood on the dress. Then he tapped. "Wasn' **t** me."

Verity rolled her eyes. "Obviously." This game was getting old. If he wasn't going to kill her, she wanted him gone. She rolled her hips up in an attempt to dislodge him.

"Whoa, whoa there darling." Chuckling, he placed the knife against her throat. "I'm not… **done** …with you. See…I was scouting tonigh **t** and they left early…to chase after some blonde. I didn't get the information I needed." His eyes lingered on the fake hair. Knife still in hand, he roughly placed his hands over the sides of her face and leaned close. "You **keep** interfering," he growled at her. He growled again for good measure in annoyance. She still refused to _fear him_. He had to close his eyes and gather patience not to stab her over and over again.

His eyes were still closed when she spoke up, "Are you talking about the mob? Although you don't deserve it, I'll tell you what they were discussing about you. There's a hit on you, dead or alive." When she finished relaying the details, he quietly stood up and walked away from her.

Groaning, she took the opportunity to stand up, sizing him up the entire time. His broad shoulders were hunched but did nothing to detract from his imposing presence. Then he twirled around, bottom of his purple overcoat flaring out a bit. Solemn to grinning widely within seconds. Holding her side, she just regarded him. He was a whole lotta crazy, and she just wanted him gone.

"Consider us…even. For killing my driver." Did he think he was being benevolent?

Throwing her hands in the air, she stalked off, uncaring if he followed or not. "One man. All this bitching over _one man._ "

Suddenly, she was spun to the left and slammed against the wall. His left forearm was pressed against her throat as his knee settled between hers. She was going nowhere. His warm breath was in her face as he exhaled heavily, some unnamed emotion in his normally emotionless eyes. He licked his lips, something she was quickly realizing was a deeply ingrained habit. "You, uh, _really_ , know how to push my but-tons, dontchya?"

Verity smoothly slipped her hands underneath the lapels of his jacket and laid her hands on his chest. She grabbed hold of a button on his vest. "These buttons?" The pressure on her throat was enough to be uncomfortable; it was apparent that if he wanted to, it could be downright painful. He was holding back.

The Joker lowered his head to study her hands. As if he couldn't quite believe that someone was physically touching him. Willingly.

He strongly annoyed her. She never wanted to see him again. Yet, her heart went out to him as she watched him struggle with an inner turmoil at her light touch. Honestly, her first instinct had been to stab him with the knife sheathed in her garter. Something had held her back.

His head was still down when she commented, "I'm not going to apologize."

Unexpectedly, he dropped her, but didn't back off. Placing his forearms on either side of her head, he was practically touching noses with her as his dark eyes bore into her own. Very softly, he conceded, "I wouldn't expect you to. **That** would be wea ** _k_**." A shiver ran down her spine when his gaze landed on her lips. "And, I, uh, have a feeling you are not…weak, that is." He smirked at the goosebumps erupted on her flesh.

The expression on his face when she shoved him away from her was priceless though. She laughed sharply as he quietly regarded her with a smirk. Peeling layers from her visage as if he could see inside her soul.

The Joker found this woman fascinating. He could have killed her multiple times, and she knew that. Then again, she could have killed him a few times as well, and he acknowledged that with interest. Neither of them feared death.

In his experience, _everyone_ feared death. Threaten a life or the life of a loved one and everyone lost their minds! He could work with that.

But not her. Yet, he believed he finally found a weakness. They all had one.

"So, tell me beautiful, uh, _why_ do you like killing men." Analyzing people was second nature to the Joker. It was quite apparent that he was getting under her skin.

Defensively, she answered, "I never said I did."

"Oh, but you **do.** Admit it." When he stepped closer to her, those beautiful purple eyes widened. He glanced once again at the distracting blonde wig. It wasn't her color.

Gritting her teeth, she admitted, "Yes, I _like_ it. Happy now?"

Shaking the sleeve of his jacket down, he glanced at his watch. "One of these days, we need to discuss _philosophy._ But right now, I'm, uh, insanely curious. And short on time. Do you… _hate_ , men?"

Scoffing, Verity disputed, "No. I don't _hate_ anyone I kill."

Acting disinterested, but very much interested, the Joker queried, "Would you, uh, kill a _woman_?"

Verity was silent so long that the Joker finally focused on her face. He wondered if she would answer him. There were ways to get answers.

Growling, he pushed, "You act more like _the Bat_ , with this…good **will** ruleboo **k.** "

Verity snapped. "How dare you compare me to that idiot!"

Eyes narrowed on the angry lines of her body, Joker laughed, "What did Batman do to you?"

"He took a bullet for one of the mob goons. He _saved_ him, from me!" She was absolutely affronted.

The Joker looked positively gleeful when he said, "Sounds like the Bat."

So quietly, he almost didn't hear her, Verity admitted, "I have killed women. You don't know anything about me. You don't know my motives. I don't have rules. Boundaries, maybe, but not rules. What does it matter?"

The paint on his face crinkled with the large smile that encompassed his face, "The only sensible way to live in this world is without rules!"

"You're insane."

Arms wide, he shouted, "I know! Isn't it great!?" One moment he was euphoric and the next, he had the flat side of the blade against her cheek. "See… _if_ I, uh, played by rules, I would have just **broke** mine. Normally…that, uh, phrase…makes me explo **de**." Then he belligerently patted her cheek with his hand.

"And I've killed for less than what you're doing to me."

Laughing, he stepped back. "I know. That's why I, uh, _like_ you. So, what's your name? I gotta call you something!"

"Wouldn't you like to know? I only tell my friends." She didn't have any friends.

No longer laughing, the Joker contemplated her for a few moments. "I tell you what. Let's make a bet." Verity rolled her eyes but didn't refuse, which spurred the Joker on. "If there ever comes a…time, that I make you so senseless that you can't even answer a ques **tion** , you have to, uh, answer three questions. Game?"

Verity immediately imagined him beating her head into the rock floor. Gritting her teeth, she inquired, "If I agree, will you leave?"

"Yes. I am a man of my word." His eyes dared her.

"I agree."

Without a good-bye, the Joker left, leaving her standing in a bloody foyer. Blood on the floor. On the wall. She ignored the mess.

Verity wanted nothing more than a hot bath. Slowly, she trudged to the bathroom. Leaning over the side of the large, square tub, she turned the dials to release the water. Then she removed each boot slowly. She was only human, and her body was worn out. Her muscles ached and her side screamed at her.

Unzipping the dress, she let it drop in a bloody heap. It was unsalvageable. Finally, she glanced down at her lingerie, first noting the stab wound, but then her eyes snapped to the garter on her upper left leg.

Calmly, her left hand slapped down on the calling card slipped into the belt. After taking a deep breath, she grasped the edge and pulled it out. Turning it over, it was as she expected.

The Joker card.

He had managed to slip it into her garter. So much had happened between them, she couldn't even pinpoint when. He had been everywhere, overwhelming her. And she had let him.

She was still laughing as she slipped into the scalding hot water.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews. I like how you're all giving me ideas. I never intended this to be a continuation, but here it is. I did this late last night, keep that in mind ;)**

It had taken a week for her body to feel normal again. Her definition of 'getting back to normal' was a far cry from everyone else. Instead of sitting around and taking it easy, she had pushed her body to new limits.

 _Feel the burn._

She had been taught there was no down time. If an enemy was on your heels, take no time to recover. Not if it could be helped. And there was always an enemy. So, one had to force the body to heal by activating it. First, she had started out with savage yoga poses to prepare. Then she had forced her body to work through the pain, until it no longer hurt. That's when she knew it was time to stop. Not a moment before.

Verity had gotten lazy, she knew. The Joker had gotten the upper hand on her one too many times while she was injured. Just thinking back on it had her seething. The way he had manhandled her, touched her so freely.

But meeting both the Joker and the Batman were complete surprises she had not anticipated.

Her mentor would have whipped her for these mistakes. Eyes hardening with the thought, Verity slid down a ladder off a fire escape. Bending slightly at the knees to bear the force, she landed with a muffled thud, then probed the darkness carefully.

It was hunting time.

The last goon had been released barely forty-eight hours after his arrest. People like him were above the law. It didn't help that Gotham PD was as corrupt as they came, and she had seen quite a many corrupted police departments. Gotham PD was nothing more than a shuffling department, a brief reprieve from the dangers of the streets.

Every night since his release, she had been studying him. It gave her something to do in the evenings. Although, it didn't save her from her thoughts. The Joker kept surfacing in her mind. His grin, even when he wasn't smiling. His cold eyes that were dangerously calculating. The uneasy feeling that he was studying her, testing her strengths and weakness, but to what gain she had not figured out yet.

At the end of the alleyway, her prey was leaving the building. She knew he had been underground gambling. Normally, he left alone. Tonight, he was surrounded by two others. Only wanting the one, Verity changed tactics and quickly hoisted herself up the escape ladder and ran to the top of the building.

Running to the back, she hopped onto the ledge of the building and stared down. The wind blew her blue bobbed wig as she stood with her proud shoulders silhouetted against the darkness. It was early yet and she knew he wasn't done for the night.

With a gleam in her eyes, she knew what to do.

Absolutely no hesitation, she took off like an arrow, sprinting full force on the roof of the building and jumped off the edge. For one terrifyingly exciting moment, she was freefalling. The wind whistled in her ears, ending with a crunch as she rolled on the next roof. Immediately, she was up again, running, and landing on the next rooftop.

This group of buildings in this part of town were close.

Kneeling on the roof, she controlled her breathing and listened. His voice was no longer moving, their laughter carrying in the wind. Sure enough, they entered the building she was waiting on. Sighing as she surveyed the scene below, she turned around to lean against the ledge only to stiffen in shock.

There before her stood Batman.

Arms crossed, she stared daggers at him. He said nothing as he watched her. Her adrenaline was pumping while her mind was crystal clear. His impressive size and stature did not scare her.

Finally, his forced rough voice broke the silence of the night air, "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm being harassed by Batman." Her eyes twinkled when she noticed his gloved hands fist and his face tighten with annoyance. Poker face, this one did not have. She wondered how much control he had.

"I told you to stay away from the mob. That you would not like it if we met again." Verity leaned toward him as he tried his best to sound threatening. What were his motives? Why did he care what she did?

Strolling several steps in his directions, she stopped a foot away and tilted her head back. She studied his visible facial features with a quiet intensity that unnerved the Batman. Oh yes, she could see it by the slight muscle twitch in the corner of his lips. He had not expected her to come so close to him. No one approached him with such ease.

"You aren't very good at hiding your emotions. Is that why you wear a mask?"

Her question had surprised him. She smiled a genuine smile, which lit up the beauty she could never hide. Ignoring her, he ground out gruffly, "Whatever you think you're doing, it won't help."

Eyebrows raised in mock alarm, she challenged, "Oh really? And you think that your methods help?" Before he could respond, her voice became cold. "Because it doesn't. You are wasting your time. If you had let me finish last week, that man would be off the streets. Permanently. But instead, he's back to killing and raping. Thanks to you." Her eyes were as cold as her voice, glittering like amethysts.

The Batman stiffened in anger. "Killing is not the answer. Two wrongs don't make a right."

Tilting her head in confusion, she queried, "What is the point of you and all this?" She motioned with her hand up and down his costume. "I know the police didn't like you at first, but now they accept you. I've seen the sign at night, calling you. Mind you, I'm fairly new to the city, but I have to say that this city is quite a nasty punch. Why you, when you don't even punish those who deserve it?"

It took him a few moments to respond, and she could read that he did not want to. But he did. "Criminals are a superstitious and cowardly lot, so my disguise must be able to strike terror into their hearts. I must be a creature of the night, black, terrible…"

"Ah, but you are not terrible at all," Verity whispered softly. Her eyes roved the muscled grooves of his armor, noting how soft the material appeared. Deciding to assuage her curiosity, she reached out and skimmed her hand across his abdomen. Very firm.

Like a striking snake, he grasped her hand tightly in his. The tension spiked up and the air charged. Verity frowned. That was not what she wanted.

A door banged open as voices drifted from below.

Her eyes caught the dark ones of Batman as his fingers tightened almost painfully. He was telling her to desist. But Verity never gave up. Once she chose and marked someone, that was it. No one had ever slipped her noose off.

"Sorry, Batman, I have a killer date I can't be late for." When she attempted to move backward, she was expecting his next move. Rather than twist her arm behind her as he wanted, she catapulted herself over his shoulder. As she knew he would, he released her wrist. When she swung her forearm at his head, he spun around and knocked her back.

She rolled to the ground, but kicked his leg out from under him. Before he could bounce back up, she was on him, straddling his waist as she laughed down at his shocked face. Not to be deterred, he reached up and knocked her off, but she grabbed his bicep and swung him around to bounce off the roof again.

Verity had been studying the roof during their conversation. In order for her plan to work, she needed him a few more feet over. The man was a hulking mass of muscle though and very difficult for her slight frame to manipulate.

Suddenly, he had her pinned to the ground by her shoulders in the last spin. Verity was in the mood for a shock factor so she reached her neck up and licked his cheek. Defenses down a millimeter, but still enough for Verity to kick him in the groin. No man, masked hero or maniacal villain, could compete against that sensation. Their fight for dominance was nearly over. They were grappling until he punched her in the stomach. It nearly knocked the wind out of her. On the last roll, a loud click echoed in the air.

The Batman could no longer roll. She was kneeling over him with a triumphant grin on her face. With dismay, Batman glanced up at his wrist cuffed to a skinny pipe that ran up the exhaust vent of the building. This woman had used his own cuffs against him. He was baffled and couldn't even recall them being taken. "Don't worry, I won't remove your mask. If you want your secrets, then you can have them." His glower was hot enough to melt skin. "Don't look at me like that." Gently patting his chest, she got off of him. "I can think of half a dozen ways to escape, so I know I'm not leaving you here at the mercy of whoever may find you. I wager it won't take you more than twenty minutes. I'll be long gone by then though." She winked at him. He was so easy to tease.

Resorting to pleading, he warned her, "You don't have to do this." Those goody-two shoe puppy dog eyes would not work on her.

Spinning around, she called over her shoulder, "But I love hunting." Within a minute, she was on the ground and peeking around the building. Behind the building was a narrow road and the goon was alone, smoking a cigarette by the open door.

She wore leather leggings and a leather halter top. All black, even right down to the thick, two inch heeled boots. Strolling confidently down the street, she watched through a half-lidded gaze as his eyes zeroed in on her. He stomped on the cigarette and watched her approach. She knew he wouldn't recognize her, not until it was too late.

"Hey, why don't you come over here and give me some sugar?" He invited her over in a sickening sweet tone. She obliged and headed his way, letting him think it was his idea, as if he had some appeal over women. She scoffed at the thought.

He continued to smile until she was two feet in front of him. That was when she lifted her uncanny violet eyes. If they were lucky enough to avoid her clutches the first time, they always recognized her eyes the next time. His expression went from gloating to terrified to angry. Absolutely no control. Simple animals.

And this hunt had come to a close. Batman would be free soon, and she would not give him another opportunity to spoil her fun.

Before he could react, her left arm chopped his trachea with a sickening crunch. Immediately, he grabbed his throat and began gasping for air. Air that was not so forthcoming. It was painful and difficult. He fell back against the building as he struggled to remain upright. Slowly reaching forward, she grasped his hair in her left fist and lifted his head just enough to view his eyes as his body struggled for oxygen.

There was no hatred. No malice. No deceit. It was pure truth. The truth of what he was. An animal that needed to be put down.

Quickly and forcefully, Verity slammed the heel of her hand upwards into his nose as she pulled his head down until they connected with a crunch. Detecting company, Verity glanced straight ahead as she released the body and let it drop.

It was the other two men. Before they could even raise their guns, she raised her hands up in surrender. A few minutes later, she was thrown into the trunk of an unmarked black car. It smelled metallic, like old blood. It was obvious she was not the first body thrown in the trunk, but at least she wasn't bleeding.

At first light, she was going to meet the mob boss. Gambol was his name. Verity wondered how he would feel about her killing off his men. She was sure he wouldn't be happy.


	5. Chapter 5

Although it had been close to dawn when she was thrown in the trunk of the car, Gambol did not send for her until late that morning. She had been thrown into a dark, windowless room no bigger than a closet. It was a good thing she didn't fear the dark or have claustrophobia.

Verity could only conclude they were trying to rattle her. _Amateurs._ She would have at least knocked someone around a bit first.

They led her around a corner and practically threw her in a room with pool tables. The goon told her, "Boss will be here any minute. Make yourself comfortable." She inspected the room carefully before settling to rest her back against the left side wall, standing beside the pool sticks. And she waited.

It wasn't long before the man himself waltzed in. He barely glanced at her when he grabbed a stick and leaned against the pool table directly in front of her. Silent for a few minutes, she studied him. His dark skin blended with his tan suit.

His style was atrocious.

Finally, he held his hands out from his sides, "Well, you've got my attention." When she didn't immediately respond, he continued. "I don't know what you're trying to prove, but there's a lot going on right now. I don't have time to put little girls in their place, nor can I afford to lose good men."

Feigning boredom, she studied her nails. "They weren't good men. And men like them are a dime a dozen."

He chuckled in a humorless way. "I tell you what, you're going to make it up to me. My men are going to escort you tonight to a Gotham street corner and make sure you make it up to me. And to ensure you don't escape. I reckon six months' time ought to be enough. What do you think?"

Verity stared at the man, amused that he felt he was bargaining with her. All he did was confirm he had a prostitution gig set up. He didn't know who she was or what she was capable of, and he clearly underestimated her due to her gender.

"We have a few hours before it's time, so why don't we get to know one another better. Game of billiards?" He didn't wait for her answer before he set the rack and broke it.

Verity silently watched him, remaining relaxed against the wall with her arms crossed. Her blue wig was still in place and beginning to itch her scalp. It was time to end this and go home. Deciding to strike when he moved to her end of the pool table, Verity stood and bided her time. She knew how this would play out. It was decided.

Suddenly, two goons entered the room, and she bristled at the interruption. The goon on the left piped up, "Yo, Gambol, somebody here for you. They say they've just killed the Joker."

Verity struggled to stifle her shock as the second goon spoke up, "They brought the body."

The Joker was dead? Verity was curious. She knew Gambol had had a hit on the Joker, and she had warned him. Had he not taken her warning seriously? For some unknown reason, Verity did not like the thought of his death. Her brows pinched together at the thought.

She tried to tell herself that he was just one more criminal off the streets of Gotham. But he wasn't like the others.

Zeroing in closely to the goons as they brought a body shaped black bag inside. There was definitely a dead body in it. Three individuals followed the goons looking casual and cocky. Her eyes narrowed on them. There was something off about them.

Unable to avoid looking at the supposed body of the Joker, Verity wrenched her gaze from the newcomers and watched as the body was placed on the pool table.

Not wasting any time, Gambol ripped the black bag off the head of the body. Her eyes widened as she stared at the face of the Joker. He wore his white face paint, and the scars under the red paint were puffier than usual. Relaxed in post-mortem. He really was dead!

Although her eyes were glued to the Joker's face, she was aware of Gambol walking around the body, gloating. It was flowing off him in waves. She wanted to rip that smirk right off his face. He didn't deserve this; he hadn't even gone out and done the job himself. A coward who refused to dirty his own hands. Yet puffed his chest out at a trophy handed to him.

Finally, he walked away toward the front of the feet hanging off the table in order to address the men who had taken out the Joker.

Still high on his success, Gambol told them, "So, dead, that's five-hundred…"

But before he could finish, the Joker ripped the bag open from his body and sat up. Verity remained still as a statue against the wall, unwilling to bring attention to herself.

As soon as he sat up, he asked in his one of a kind voice, "How about alive?" So fast, it was difficult for Verity to keep up, he grabbed Gambol's head and put a blade up against his lips. The flash of fear in his eyes was deeply satisfying for Verity. Then, the three men grabbed the mob men and placed guns against their heads. Now she could place them. They were amateur bounty hunters.

The Joker reiterated, "Hmmm?" He paused, and just happened to glance in her direction. Whatever he was about to say was put on hold as he stiffened ever so slightly. Looking back at Gambol, he tapped the blade against his mouth and asked, "What's she doing here?"

Gambol frighteningly glanced from the Joker to Verity and back, but didn't know what to say, so the Joker addressed her. "Are you, uh, working for this gentleman?" He raised his eyebrow at her. Verity could see the annoyance in that gesture.

She smiled and slowly shook her head. "Then, uh, how did you come to be _here_?"

Her smiled broadened, and she finally spoke to him. "By the trunk of a car."

The Joker had the most glorious Poker face of all times. He was deadly calm as he regarded Gambol's face thoughtfully. Addressing Gambol, he asks, "Did she put up a fight? I _really_ want to know."

Gambol mutters, "No, she came willingly." He glanced between the Joker and Verity as if wondering how they knew one another.

The Joker tilted his head toward her with a knowing smirk. "You were up to no good."

Laughing, he added more pressure to Gambol's lips and leaned in close to Gambol's ear. "Do you want to know how I got these scars?" Then he leaned away. "My father…was, a drinker. And a fiend. Then one night, he goes off **_crazier_** than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself. He doesn't like that." He licked his lips, adding to the suspense of his story. Verity wondered if it was true. "Not…one…bit. So, me watching, he takes the knife to her…laughing while he does it. He turns to me, and he says. Why so **_s_** _eriou_ _ **s**_?" Gambol now looked petrified. Verity was riveted at this performance. It was better than a soap opera. At least for her. "He comes at me with the knife. Why so serious? He sticks the blade in my mouth…Let's put a smile on that face. And…" The Joker paused as he glanced over at her. He looked thoughtful and serene for a moment. She knew it was deceptive. A calm before the storm. He addressed her in a rather normal voice, "Why so serious?"

The moment we had all been unaware of waiting for happened. The Joker ripped his blade into Gambol's face. It was gruesome, but she didn't flinch. Unlike the rest of the men. Calmly, he stood up and dropped the body with a thud. The Joker pulled the rest of the plastic off from around his neck and addressed the remaining six men.

"Now, our operation is small, but there's a lot of potential…", on the last word the Joker was standing directly in front of Verity as he grabbed a pool stick. His eyes were burning into hers. He was angry, although his actions said otherwise, and he continued very theatrically, "…for, aggressive expansion. So, which of you fine gentlemen would like to join our team? Gentlemen, not gentlewoman, so you're, uh, disqualified." He paused and raised one hand up. "Oh, there's only one spot open right now, so we're gonna have tryouts."

He snapped the poker stick in half and threw the sharpest half between the goons. Then he glanced over his shoulder at Verity, "Follow me." It was said in a brook-no-argument way. Not that she was going to. The Joker had taken from her what little fun gained by staying here had been by killing Gambol.

As Verity uncoiled herself away from the wall, she did indeed begin to follow as the Joker called over his shoulder, "Make it fast."

Verity was in the room long enough to watch the men study the stick and then each other. The sounds of fighting and screaming traveled down the hallway after her and the Joker.

Eventually they came to a door, and she was vaguely aware of the Joker motioning the men away before he opened a door and yanked her inside. Before she could complain, he removed the wig from her head and threw it to the side. "I _hate_ that color." His eyes were bright with volatile emotion.

Then, taking her entirely by surprise, he grabbed the sides of her head and brutally brought his mouth down on hers. Verity stiffened and placed her hands on his chest to push him away, but then he softened his attack. She found that she couldn't push him away.

Maybe it was because she was still relieved he was alive, or maybe she was finally allowing herself to feel, but either way, she allowed herself to get carried away in the Joker's kiss. He made odd little humming sounds as he explored her mouth. When she ran her hands up to grab hold of his hair, he pressed his body fully into hers. She groaned when she felt all of him.

That sound was enough to snap her out of whatever spell he was weaving on her.

She tugged his head back forcefully and kneed him in the stomach. When he leaned forward, laughing the whole time, she kicked her foot against his shoulder and shoved.

He landed on his back.

Verity opened the door and left without a backward glance, his eerie laughter popping up goosebumps along her bare arms.


End file.
